Dilemma
by Silverneko9lives0
Summary: Snap decisions lead to mistakes. Mistakes lead to...what? M for language and a little other stuff. Snarry, OOC, OOTP-verse
1. Chapter 1

_**Dilemma**_

_Pent up emotions and spur of the moment decisions can only cause one thing: mistakes—and these mistakes may cause…what? Snarry OotP-verse_

Chapter 1

I realized and accepted I preferred men in my third year.

The way I felt about Cho was entirely different from how I felt about Professor Lupin. I don't know if I liked him because of his maturity or his sense of humor or his kindness and understanding.

But I was undeniably attracted to him by the time December rolled around. It was painful, being so close to him and unable to tell him how I felt.

I was afraid he'd reject me if I told him, or if he didn't that he'd leave the school.

He left anyway at the end of the year after exams.

I despised Snape for that. I pined for Professor Lupin even after he left through my fourth year and halfway through fifth.

Professor Snape pulled out. I stumble into the desk behind me, steadying myself against it.

"Yet again, Potter, you have proven you are completely incapable of listening to directions. I told you, time and time again to practice!"

I refuse to look up at him. I wish he'd just shut up.

"With as much effort you put into your other classes, I'd think a simple assignment like _clearing your bloody mind_ would be an easy task. You amaze me by your lack of enthusiasm."

Who'd be enthusiastic having to spend extra time with this git?

"I'm not surprised, however," he drawls.

_Oh, Merlin. Just shut up!_

"With your skills, it's amazing you're good at anything. There aren't many who are so inept!"

I want him to shut up. Only to shut up. I've taken enough of his abuse and I'm tired of it. So I tackle him, slamming my mouth against his before seizing my bag and heading to the door in a huff.

I did not expect, not once, Snape to seize my arm and pull me back to him. Nor did I expect for him to pin me against the wall. Or for him to return my spiteful kiss.

But it happened anyway.

Not much scares me. I'm almost stupidly brave. I know that I'm stupidly brave. Hermione and Ron have told me that enough times. However, I'm scared right now. So scared I can't think or move.

Fear, it seems, can be fleeting because it seems years of frustration and anger melt away. I hadn't thought much about Snape. I never liked him. He was quite vocal about hating me, always comparing me to my dad.

I'm tired of all my pent up desires which Lupin won't return, regardless whether I tell him or not. It was hard not to notice how he acted around Tonks and vice versa over the summer.

Snape's hands rest on my hips, pulling me closer to him. I grind against him, begging for more than violent kisses. I want to feel his skin against my hands, against my body…I want his lips on my jaw, my throat, everywhere. I want to be connected in body and soul.

His nails dig into my hips and I feel how rigid he is. What is he resisting?

The kiss breaks and he pushes me out the door.

"We're done for today, Potter," he tells me, his breathing is heavy. "Practice like I've told you and we'll convene next week." The door slams in my face before I can say anything.

I walk back to Gryffindor, thinking through what just happened between me and Snape.

Fuck.

#

"Oh, Harry," Hermione mutters, shaking her head in her hands. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," I hiss, trying not to yell. Ron is busy playing chess with Ginny. Which is a relief. He'd not understand at all. I don't really understand it.

"Do you think you might have a crush on him?" she asks.

"I don't know, I say. "Maybe, but Hermione, come on! It's Snape. Since when have I ever expressed interest in him? Until recently I only liked Lupin."

"I know," she said, crossing her arms. "While I'm not one to talk about liking teachers, I'm glad you got over him, Harry. It was tearing you apart—especially after he started to date Tonks. But I don't think pining after Professor Snape is any better."

"He kissed me back."

Hermione's mouth opened. "Oh, God, Harry…"

"What?"

"He's a teacher, that's what! Did both of your brains decide to take a vacation?"

"Thank you, Hermione, for having a blunt edged sword for a tongue."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but…I'm just worried about you, that's all."

I nod, "Thanks for that."

"You're very welcome," she said, embracing me. "Tell me if things go. And I'll be there for you tomorrow after Potions."

Crap, I forgot! I really don't want to go to classes tomorrow.

"You think I can get away with a sick day?"

"No, you'll need them for whatever injuries you acquire later in the year," Hermione reminded me. Damn her.

"Fine. I won't skip, but I really don't want to go to school tomorrow."

"I know, I know."

The clock chimed eleven and I stand. "I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight."

"'Night."

I ascend the stairs to the boy's dorm. Slipping into the room, I get ready for bed, my thoughts refusing to think of anything but what had transpired in Snape's classroom.

I kept thinking of things that have been rather helpful turn off's.

I go to bed, not feeling any need to jerk off. But my subconscious had other plans for me.

_His nails dig into my hips. Why is he so rigid?_

_Any resistance he's fighting chips away his resolve. His grasp lessens enough that his nails stop digging into my skin. He finally moves against me. A groan I can't suppress escapes my lips. My hands hold his robes in a death grip._

_I'm shoved against the wall and he kisses my neck, nipping sensitive skin and sucking it, leaving mark. A hand slides over my abdomen. It unbuttons my pants and slides inside my boxers. His large, calloused hand against my hot member entices another groan out of me._

_I hear a rumbling. He's growling. Snape's hand massages my erection._

"_No one," he whispers in my ear, "jumps me, Potter. Is that clear?"_

"_Yes," I manage._

"_Good."_

"_Let go."_

_I can feel his smile, the curve of his lips against my jaw. He doesn't let go. _

"_Let go," I repeat with slightly more force. "Professor, please—"_

I bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily.

"Another nightmare, Harry?" Neville asks, coming out of the bathroom, scratching his belly.

I nod my head.

Neville says nothing more, too tired to really care. He goes back to sleep.

My lower body is on fire and I close the blinds. I glare at my erection, enraged that my body would react to Snape—_Snape_ of all people! Of course it's not the first time I've gotten hard over a teacher (as you know, I am still struggling with my crushed feelings for Lupin).

But it's Snape!

I don't want to risk waking my roommates who still sleep soundly. I hope I wasn't moaning. Fuck, that'd be the worst! So should I go take a shower or…

My lips are still tingling from where Snape had touched them.

My hips can still feel his hands pressing against them; his nails digging into them.

I want to feel his hands on me again. I want his lips bruising my skin.

I cast a silencing charm around my bed. Once my wand is on the nightstand beside me again, I discard my pajamas and slide my hand over my groin, enticing shivers to crawl up my spine.

I massage my dick with one hand while the other grasps my balls.

I spread my legs apart, sliding my hand further down until I could feel puckered skin. I tease it, groaning before remembering the lube. I douse my fingers in it and resume my ministrations, sliding my fingers, one at a time, inside my ass.

Breathing shallowly, my imagination running wild…black eyes flash in my mind.

"Severus…" I whisper.

Semen spurts over my stomach and chest. While I clean up, guilt seeps into me.

Why I feel guilt, I don't know.

I've not felt guilty after masturbating before. Does it have anything to do with who the object of my fantasies had been tonight? If so, then ought I have felt this way about Lupin? I never did.

So why would I feel this way about Snape?

I don't don my pj's again, lying under the covers.

I still feel Snape's nails digging into my hips.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I arrive at Potions trying to hide behind Ron, who is all but asking what I'm doing for which I'm grateful. As if I'd want him to know why I suddenly found need to hide behind him.

Let alone a need to sit in the back. Normally I'd sit close to the door for a quick get away.

But as that is where I usually sit, I know Snape will find me there. So, I sit in the back of the classroom, where it's dark and I can hide easier.

"Hi, Harry."

I turn, wide eyed, to Neville.

Shit. I forgot Neville sits back here in hopes of avoiding Snape.

But of course, he forgets that this doesn't work since Snape has a habit of bullying him (as though he believes it'd help Neville improve. Git).

But as I'm already seated here and the clock has struck the hour and the door has banged open and Snape is barking instructions for today's potion, I've no opportunity to move and no choice but to aid Neville as best I can.

Fuck my life.

Potions class has always been unbearable. Snape snaps one name at a time—

"Potter."

I don't raise my hand or call out to him so he knows I'm here. He looks up, glaring.

"_Potter_."

I should say something, or motion to him. Let him know I'm here. But I can't bring myself to move or speak.

"Granger, where is Potter?"

"He's in the back, Professor."

_Shit! Thanks a lot, Hermione._

Snape's eyes scan the back until he sees me trying to hide beside a very confused Neville.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter. When I call your name you answer, is that clear?"

Caught, I straighten. "Yes, Sir."

"Is it?"

"Yes, Sir," I repeat louder.

Class is no longer than usual save for being unbearable in more ways than one with Snape breathing down my and Neville's necks. Which, to be quite honest, makes the class seem so much longer than it really needs to feel.

Somehow, we manage a decent potion that's barely passable and hand it in. Snape doesn't make any notes other than a tiny sneer before we make for freedom.

"Potter, stay," he commands.

Against my better judgment, my feet halt and I'm frozen in place.

Ron and Hermione give me sympathetic looks before heading to History.

Once the room is empty, Snape turns to me.

"I thought you had called me out on not letting you know I was in class. What more do you want?" I ask before he can yell at me.

"You want me to yell at you more about making your presence known in class? Last I checked, you weren't five and I don't expect you to act like you are."

"I thought avoidance was necessary," I begin. I stop. I don't want to bring up last night's events.

Snape nods. "Sadly, Potter, as I am your teacher, avoiding each other is impossible. Ergo it is the wrong solution. As for the right solution, well, that's what we need to figure out."

I don't think he'd appreciate knowing I fantasized about him last night. If anything, that'd be awkward for both of us, a reason for me to hide in my dorm room for the rest of my school life, and incentive for him to make my life more miserable than he already does (forget Umbridge!). He's vengeful after all.

"Though I loathe saying it, as I'd like nothing better than to avoid you myself, we have to talk."

"How?" I ask. "I kissed you and not because I like you, Sir."

I wait, unsure whether to go on. "Continue," he says.

"I wanted you to shut up and since telling you would get me into detention with…a billion points on my head."

He smirks, "An excellent exaggeration."

I ignore him. "I decided to do what I thought at the time was the next best thing. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"All bad ideas seem good when first thought of. You're not entirely at fault, though, Potter. I shouldn't have kissed you back."

"But you did."

"I did. As we agreed, snap decisions don't always play out the way they should. For that reason, I'm not going to punish you for last night's…incident. We are both in agreement that neither of us harbor inappropriate feelings for each other, as you seem ought to have."

I avert my gaze. "So you…"

"Yes," Snape smirks. "I'm quite aware of your…desire for Lupin, which I think are…were?"

"Were."

"Were badly misplaced."

"Because he was a teacher, I know."

"Potter, you're not the first student to have fancied a teacher. Nor are you the first to fancy a teacher of the same sex."

I can't look at him.

I'm shaking as badly as a leaf in the wind. I feel as though I'm about to be torn off whatever tree I'm attached to and fall where I'll be trampled on, eaten at, and disintegrate into the earth.

Snape continues on, ignorant of any personal trauma I'm experiencing. "But regardless why we kissed each other, it happened and it would be best we find a way to come to an agreement."

I nod.

"Any suggestions?"

"Don't make me want to shut you up?"

He chuckled.

I lift my head looking at a smirking Snape.

"I suppose that's a start," he agrees. "I'll keep my…criticism minimal at best. In which case, there should be a little effort on your part as well. Apply yourself in my class—_both_ of them, Potter. I mean that. The less you give me to criticize the easier it will be for me to not take any bait."

"It'd be easier to apply myself at Occlumency if you were _actually_ _teaching_ me!" I shout. Snape narrowed his eyes, frowning.

"Watch your tone, Potter."

"Why?" I snap. I don't know why I'm letting my anger get the best of me again. I open my mouth to continue. Snape seizes my shoulder, squeezing it in a death grip. I silence, losing all train of thought.

"Potter, regardless what you think of me, I expect enough respect from you to at least listen and obey when I give you a command. Now calm down. Letting your anger rule you will allow the Dark Lord to feed thoughts to you. You think this connection you have is one way?"

I blink. That's exactly what I thought.

"It is never one way, Potter. Each time I use Legilimency on you, you have an opportunity to look into my memories and thoughts as well. However, I don't expect you to know how to do so. The Dark Lord can look into your thoughts as easily as you can his, and he will use this connection to manipulate you. That is why you must learn Occlumency. That is why it is so important that you follow my directions. When I tell you to apply yourself at a task, I expect you to do so despite how much you hate me."

We glare at each other, but I've nothing more to say on the matter.

"Have we an agreement for now?"

"Yes Sir."

He backs away. "Get out."

I almost run for the door. By now, half of history has passed and there'd be no point in going to it. What else would I do? Sleep?

I'm half afraid that if I sleep, I'll have another wet dream involving the notorious Potions Master.

So instead, I head back to Gryffindor and rush to the dorm, collapsing onto my bed, and scream into the pillow.

What else am I going to do until lunch?

#

"What happened?" Hermione asked at the same time Ron asked: "Snape bust your balls, mate?"

I wave them off not wanting to talk about any of it. It's not as though something horrifying happened after potions. Nothing I wouldn't expect Snape to do, anyway.

And for busting my balls…well…did he? Kind of, but not enough to complain about it to my friends.

He's not at the staff table, for which I'm very grateful. The less I see of him, the better. Sure, complete avoidance is impossible. But I still don't want to see him if I can help it.

"Harry," Hermione said, tugging my sleeve, "_what happened_?"

"Nothing," I insisted. "We talked about Occlumency. That's all." No need to tell her we talked about last night.

Hermione knit her brow and narrowed her eyes, frowning.

"Really, Hermione, nothing happened. We just talked. That's all."

"Nothing about last night?"

"Why would we talk about last night? It's embarrassing and that he didn't bring it up is proof that he doesn't want to talk about it either," I lie.

My breathing hitches when Snape enters the room, robes sweeping the floor behind him as he takes his place next to Professor McGonagall, barely attempting to hide a sneer in Umbridge's direction.

I look at my plate.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked. "You're face is red."

"I'm not feeling all that well," I say. "I'm going to go get some sleep."

Crap. I don't want to sleep if I can help it, but they'll expect me to be in bed when Ron comes to check in on me later—if I manage to convince them I'm really sleep deprived.

I stand and seize my bag.

"Bye," I say, striding toward the door as fast as I can.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I collapse on the common room's couch, breathing heavily and groaning into the pillow.

Maybe I should talk to someone who might be able to help me. But who?

Dumbledore has always been insightful, but it'd be weird talking to him about this. Besides, I'm sure his egalitarianism extends only so far. I've no idea what he thinks of homosexuals. Plus, how would I reach him? He's no where I can find him.

I could talk to Professor McGonagall. She is my head of house and ergo my advisor and confidant when need be. But she's a woman, so that'd be awkward too.

I've already talked to Hermione and as helpful as she can be, I think her advice would be better accepted by me if from someone older and of the same sex—which also cancels out Ron and any of my other roommates. (Seamus is the only other homosexual in our year I know and he's recently figured out his sexuality and is still coming to terms with it. I'm doing what I can to help, of course, but…)

Remus would be the best option, but as I had a crush on him before, it'd be awkward all around.

Sirius would probably be okay with my sexuality but telling him I've been fantasizing about Snape and that we kissed is another matter entirely. Neither of them is silent about their loathing for each other. Sirius would probably jump to thinking Snape molested or raped me.

Mr. Weasley? Mrs. Weasley? I've never talked to either about this. As far as they're concerned, they'd like me to officially be part of the family and marry Ginny (which isn't likely to happen).

Dung? Hell no! The creep would probably rat me out to the rest of the Order.

Moody? Eh…no.

Kingsley? Well, he definitely seems more trustworthy than Dung, but I don't know him well enough to talk to him about this.

Who else is there that I can talk to? Tonks! Sure, she's a girl, but I highly doubt she's going to care about my sexuality. Let alone judge me or attack Snape without knowing the whole story. She's older, but not much older so it's not that awkward.

I jump at the table and seize a piece of parchment, my quill, and inkwell. I smooth the page out and begin with the date and "Dear Tonks."

But then my quill stops. How am I going to put this to words?

After a moment pondering, I mumble under my breath what I intend to write:

_This is going to sound very odd, but lately I've been fantasizing about a teacher of mine. I'd rather leave said teacher anonymous, but it is a male teacher. Which isn't the problem, I realized I was homosexual a couple years ago._

_But, well…I accidently kissed said teacher. He kissed me back. NOTHING HAPPENED AFTER THAT! I'm physically okay, but mentally and emotionally I'm going completely mad. Since we kissed I can't get him out of my head and I don't even like him like that! It's making my classes with him extremely awkward and I really don't want to be around him, but he teaches a core class and I can't drop it until after this year and only if I don't get the best OWL score._

_I didn't know who else to turn to. Normally, I would have gone to Sirius or Remus, but I get the feeling they'd freak out if they knew about this and I'd rather they not know at all._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

I wait for the ink to dry before heading to the Owlery. I should be in class, but I'm lucky enough to not run into anyone. Once there, because of the incident with Hedwig before, I chose a school owl instead and send it off to Grimauld Place, marking the envelope with Tonks' name and emphasizing that it is for her eyes only.

Now what? Do I go back to the common room? Do I wait here for class to end and sneak back in the throng?

"Mr. Potter," a high pitched droll jolts me out of my thoughts. "Whatever are you doing here when you should be in class?"

Fuck.

I turn to Umbridge, trying not to throw something at her toad face. "I wasn't feeling well, I'll head to class now, Professor."

I only say so because I don't want to give her a reason to give me detention.

"While that does explain your escape from the Hall an hour ago," she's grinning wider. Ugh. "It does not answer my question. Why are you here? If you are unwell, you should have gone to the Hospital Wing."

"I felt better and decided to send a letter."

"Instead of going to class?"

"It wasn't going to take long and I would have gone right after."

"Then where is your bag?"

Double fuck!

"Detention, Mr. Potter. It seems you still have not mastered the simple concept of not lying to me."

Triple fuck! My right hand begins to throb.

"I'll see you tonight at seven o'clock. Don't be late, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Professor."

I want to slam my fist into her jaw, or push her down the stairs, but I've no energy to fight her right now.

"Go get your books and go to class."

I grudgingly obey—but only because it gives me a reason to go back to the common room. I've less incentive to go to class now that I've been caught by Umbridge.

On arriving at the common room, I busy myself with homework. It gives me something to do anyway, right? It's not how I ought to be using my time, but at least I'm being productive.

#

"Why didn't you come to class after you felt better?" Hermione snapped at me when I told her I had deliberately skipped on our way to dinner around five. I'd rather have detention on a full stomach—especially since I'm going to be loosing blood today again.

I shrug.

"Harry, for goodness sakes!"

"I'll talk to everyone tomorrow, but can I eat? I'll need it for tonight."

"Why?"

"Detention with Umbridge."

"_Again?!_" Hermione and Ron asked. They're pale and staring at my hand. I shrug it off. I can handle it, pouring myself pumpkin juice and selecting a decent sized steak.

_Don't look at the staff table_, I repeat mentally like a mantra. _Don't look at the staff table._

For the most part, I succeed. That is until after I've eaten more than my fill. I look at the table as I stand. Snape is in a conversation with Flitwick and doesn't see me. Then he notices I'm looking, I guess, and I turn away, heading for the door.

I really hope Tonks gets that letter soon. I could really use some insight.

A note appears in front of me with my name on it.

_Mr. Potter_, it begins in neat and loopy, but clearly angry, script, _you're detention will remain at seven o'clock but certain matters at the ministry have come up. You will serve detention with Professor Snape instead.—Professor D. Umbridge_

Out of the fire and back in the frying pan.

Whoever had brought up these "certain matters" at the ministry has my thanks—anything to get out of detention with Umbridge.

But did she have to pass me off to Snape? I'd rather it be Filch.

#

Seven o'clock comes around the corner and I knock on the door to Snape's office.

"Enter."

I open the door. It creaks loudly. Five cauldrons await me with a scrub brush, potion and grime cleaner, a few rag cloths, and pewter garnish.

Thank Merlin! A normal detention!

"I take I'll be cleaning cauldrons tonight, Professor?"

"Yes," he answers without looking up from the essays in front of him. Good. I don't want him looking at me any more than I want to look at him.

Two hours pass and I stand, wiping my hands on my jeans. I'm glad it was a normal detention where I could be distracted. But now that I'm done, I'm brought back to reality.

"Professor, I'm finished."

Snape inspects the cauldrons for anything missed.

"All right, you're free to go." I head to the door. "Potter, next time I suggest you don't skip class to send a letter to your godfather. No matter how urgent you think it is a few hours of waiting won't kill you."

I don't bother correcting him. "Yes, Sir."

"Are you sure you understand?"

"I do," I snap, turning around. Snape's arms are crossed over his chest. "I won't skip class again to send a bloody letter."

He narrows his eyes at me. "You best leave before the Toad comes back from the ministry."

Did he just say what I think he said?

"Okay."

I turn on my heel and leave. As I do, I realize that it's the first detention I've had with him where he isn't hurling snide remarks about me or my father.

So he really intends to keep his end of the bargain? I never thought he was capable of finding middle ground at all.

Well, then again, he did suggest it.

Still, it was the first time since coming to Hogwarts where I didn't leave his presence feeling like crap.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I stare loathingly at my cum-covered hands. To have another wet dream about Snape annoys me way too deeply than it should, but there you have it. With a wave of my wand, my bed is clean again.

The clock reads seven A.M.

Resigned, I get up and head to the shower.

It's been a week since I've sent my letter to Tonks and I'm begging she has gotten it. I could really use her advice. (Well, any advice, but…)

Remembering what happened to Hedwig, I'm begging that the owl hadn't been caught and forced to hand over Tonks' letter.

After showering, I head back to my bed and dress before slinging my bag over my head and going to the Great Hall for breakfast alone.

Once there, right after I sit, the owl I sent to Tonks lands in front of me holding its leg out for me to take a letter from it.

The general mail comes at eight where all the birds swoop into the hall. But sometimes, they come whenever they can, such as this owl.

I took the letter, gave the owl a piece of sausage and watched it fly off. I grab a piece of toast and leave, wanting to read Tonks' letter in private. I hide behind the suits of armor lining the halls and open the letter, finishing the last of the toast I had grabbed.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'd like to start by saying that I'm flattered that you trust me enough to talk about this. Rest assured Remus and Sirius will know none of what passes between us in these correspondences._

_As for your problem with this teacher, avoiding him, as you said, is not going to make the situation go away especially if he's a teacher you're frequently in contact with. I don't believe it was wise of you or him to have kissed each other, even if accidently. However, that you're fantasizing about him may be an indicator that you may have repressed romantic feelings for him that you haven't realized until you kissed him. You're free to disagree, of course, as this is my own interpretation of your current situation with your teacher._

_I hope all goes well. Let me know!_

_Best of luck,_

_Tonks_

Oh…well…that makes me feel so much better.

I stuff the letter in my bag and march to Transfiguration in a huff. Being told that I have "repressed romantic feelings" for Snape is not the way I want to start my day.

I slide into my seat in McGonagall's classroom and read through the letter one, two…I lost count after three times, letting Tonks' suggestions roll around in my head.

In love with Snape?

The notion is so ludicrous that I can't help laughing.

There's got to be another explanation why I've begun to want Snape to touch me. Maybe I'm just frustrated. Maybe I just like the way he kisses. There has to be some other reason why Snape had me going mad over the last week.

And yet, the more I think on it, the more sense it makes. Sure, the last guy I had a crush on was twenty years my senior also, but—

It's Snape, for the love of Merlin!

I rest my head on the desk. I really feel like I'm about to explode from all the emotions running through my head. I can't even identify them all properly. There's anger, sure. Frustration definitely. And everything else is jumbled all around and all over the place and I can't identify one from the other.

I feel so much I can't even figure out why I feel it let alone what.

My hand covers my heart and I grip the cloth over my chest as sardonic amusement gives way to furious tears.

Tonks is right.

I'm in love with Snape.

Shit.

#

Transfiguration is followed by Defense. I get out of class unscathed somehow and Umbridge is left with a sickening smile, believing she has finally broken me down. After Defense is Charms.

Then lunch. I decide to eat in the kitchens for the rest of my school life, taking a ham sandwich from Dobby and walking to the library for study hall.

I finish the sandwich and juice outside the library before entering and heading to one of the long tables and setting my homework up, ready to study and to bury any thoughts on Snape in the back of my mind.

"Is there a particular reason your more dedicated than usual, Potter?"

I spin around in my chair and almost fall off, staring wide eyed at a frowning, cross-armed Snape.

"Er…no reason, Sir. Just…want more time for fun, I guess."

My heart is jumping against my chest, pumping blood to my cheeks, ears, and neck.

_Fuck! Calm down. It's just Snape. I can handle this. Stop blushing._

Snape arches an eyebrow. Can he tell I'm lying? Oh, shit! Has he been reading my mind this whole time? Does he know I've been trying to continue avoiding him in whatever way possible?

"Potter, are you all right?"

"Yes, Sir," I say. "Why do you ask?"

"You're sure your not getting sick? You look like you're about to keel over any moment."

"N-no, I really am fine."

_Damn it! Stop blushing! Stop cracking your voice! Stop stuttering!_

Sadly my heart is only beating faster from his concern and so my face is probably getting redder rather than the other way around.

"Potter, go to the hospital wing—"

"I'm fine, damn it!" I shout, standing up. The chair scuffles on the floor creating a high pitched squeak. Madam Pince will be around the corner any moment to kick me out, Study Hall or no Study Hall.

Snape actually looks shocked.

I begin to pack my things. "Sorry, Professor," I mumble, striding past him. Madam Pince turns the corner, her face a mask of fury. "I'm already gone," I snap at her before she can get in a single word.

I've an hour to kill before Care of Magical Creatures, so I head down there early and watch the third year class in their study while I try to calm down.

I hate how my body reacts so violently just from being close to Snape. If this goes on, I'll never be able to go to Potions without getting bothered and it's bad enough as it is.

Fuck everything! Why did I fall in love with Snape of all the people I could have fallen in love with? Wouldn't someone who I knew shared my sexuality be better? Wouldn't Seamus be better? Sure, we don't see each other that way, but still, it'd be better. Easier…

#

Care of Magical Creatures. Good distraction. I was glad I came early. It was fun watching the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws together. They're quite adorable, now that I think about it.

As for my class, the fifth year Gryffindor and Slytherin group…

Whoever thought we'd work well together was delusional or had a sick sense of humor.

Care of Magical Creatures is followed by Divination—the last class of the day.

I sit in the back with Ron as Firenze begins his lesson. I like Firenze teaching Divination more than Trelawney—that much is for sure. It's still not a class I'm keen on continuing after this year, though.

One hour dwindles down to fifty minutes…forty…thirty…

There's a knock at the door. Snape enters. "I've need of Potter."

Ah, shit.

Neville gives me a sympathetic look. Ron pats my back cruelly.

Jerks.

I leave the room and follow Snape down the hall, doing my best to avoid looking at his back. I still caught myself staring at his broad shoulders which didn't seem to match his lithe frame.

He opens the door to his office and I walk in before him.

"I seem to recall _someone_ telling me that there isn't anything urgent enough that it can't wait until after class," I remind him, setting my bag down.

"Oh believe me, I can name a number of things _that_ urgent," Snape said, smirking as he closed the door.

"I only had half an hour of class left!" I snap.

"Sit down."

I don't obey immediately. My body feels on fire.

Snape narrows his eyes.

I sit.

He leans against the desk. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

I don't answer. _Don't make me talk, please_.

"You've been practicing closing your mind?"

I nod my head. I have been practicing occlumency.

"What happened in the library, Potter?"

I say nothing.

He'd not understand. If anything, he'd mock me. He'd break me apart with his forked tongue piece by piece. Before, I could withstand it. Now I don't know if I can.

He holds up a slip of parchment and begins to read it aloud to me. It's Tonks' letter.

"Well, thank Merlin Black and Lupin are none the wiser at least," he comments.

He continues to the next paragraph, emphasizing "fantasizing" and "repressed romantic feelings," looking at me with narrowed eyes. He doesn't comment on either of them at least.

"Enlighten me, Potter," he sneers, setting the letter down. "Why you felt it necessary to blab to another Order member about our encounter?"

"I didn't!" I exclaimed, too panicked to think things through let alone calm down. "I never told Tonks it was you! I needed advice, that's all! I didn't know where else to turn! Who'd understand?!"

"Potter—"

"If you think I'm disgusting or perverted, then just say so! I'm sorry I can't help who I fall in love with!"

"_Potter, shut up_."

I wince, silencing. I stare at my feet.

"You're _not_ disgusting or perverted. You're a teenager reacting to normal hormones. They'll simmer down as you get older."

I close my eyes, trying to trap my tears behind my eyelids.

"You understand, I'm sure, why it would be inappropriate for me to accept your feelings."

My chest feels heavy, weighed down by my heart. I nod.

"Good. Get out."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I lock myself in the furthest stall in the dungeon's men's bathroom.

My legs give way and I slide down the wall. I take my glasses off, holding them in my hand as I weep, hiding my face in my arms. The effort it takes to keep my voice down in of itself is painful. Every nerve inside me is shaking, making me shiver. Any warmth I had before is now entirely gone.

I want to scream, to wail.

I don't. I don't want to be found out.

The amount of pain this feeling brings, compared to before when I discovered Lupin's relationship with Tonks, is unbearable. My chest feels like there's needles on the inside.

So this is what a broken heart really feels like.

This pain…

Is it even worth it?

I want to rip my heart out just to see if it really is made of glass. More than that: I want to see if I can pick up the shards I think are inside me right now.

#

The weekend passes by depressingly before I'm back to full force.

I'm not over Snape. Rather, I'm more persistent than ever. He knows I like him and that only gives me incentive to try and get him to change his mind about being with me.

I do know the risks. I pined after Lupin, after all. I know that Hogwarts, like any other school, has a policy about teacher-student relationships remaining strictly platonic.

Well, I'm going to screw the pooch on that and see if I can get Snape to do the same.

But how am I going to go about it?

Well, I'm not sure how one ought to go about pursuing someone at this stage. But I've Potions today, so—though the thought makes me want to run and hide, and turns my brain to mush from the nerves alone—I will tell Snape my decision regardless.

School has probably gone slower than this before, but not by my memory. Perhaps to another anxious student.

I'd tell you about the morning, but despite how slow it went, I couldn't tell you the color of Professor McGonagall's robes, or whether she even wore robes or not.

The only class I can remember anything about is Potions just before lunch.

Snape was giving a lecture about this week's potions and their effects, so no brewing today. Good. Lecture days tend to be the days he has the most tolerance for us, so he seems to be in a…relatively good mood.

I hope.

When the bell rang, signifying the end of the hour, Snape barked out our assignment for next week and sent us on our way. I remained behind gathering whatever Gryffindor courage I had left in me.

I know I'm probably going to die for even daring to try, but Voldemort might kill me anyway and so what's the harm in trying? Voldemort isn't as scary as Snape seems to be right now.

On wobbly legs, my knees all but knocking together, I approach Snape.

"Potter, there better be a good reason that you're staying behind when food beckons upstairs."

I work my jaws trying to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth. "Professor, I know that I'm…impertinent for even daring to say this—"

"I'm impressed you have 'impertinent' in your vocabulary."

I ignore the icy tone and grin. "You'd be amazed what words you can learn from Hermione," I say. "But…inoiamaxinglotbudilikeeuprof essr."

Why did I bloody mumble?! I'm an idiot!

To make things worse, I'm blushing purple. I don't know for sure, but with the amount of blood rushing to my face, I'm quite sure my face is darker than red.

Snape looks up at me as though I've lost my mind.

"Potter, if you cannot speak up, so help me, I will go to lunch and lock you in the storage closet until tomorrow morning."

"That's okay, I'm used to that."

Snape isn't amused.

"I like you," I enunciate a little too harshly than I intended. I feel better. However, any good feeling I have is replaced with fear only Snape is capable of making one feel.

"You're able to tell me you fancy me, but you couldn't tell bloody Lupin?"

"I was thirteen and he never figured it out," I shot back. "I would like to keep it that way."

"For the love of Merlin's scraggly beard, I am your _teacher_. Does that mean anything to you?"

I think this through. I feel so much braver now. I believe I've gone back to my natural complexion rather than looking like an eggplant.

"It should, I know. And it did. Until yesterday around six o'clock in the evening." I grin at him only because I've no idea what else to do.

Snape wears an expression of one who is flabbergasted. "Potter, do you live in a world where Monty Python runs the ministry?"

I never expected Snape to even know about Monty Python.

"Oh, I wish. Sadly, no, but you have to admit…"

"I know. Having Monty Python in the ministry would be interesting at least. Get out."

I don't move, though he ignores me.

"Professor, I know the risks, but I'm not afraid of them. I really like you. And I know that probably doesn't mean much to you, but I don't want to give up just because you're my teacher."

Snape leans forward onto the desk and massages his temple, muttering under his breath. I only catch two words: "Potters" and "persistence."

I've no idea what he's talking about.

He straightens. "Potter, my answer is no. If I didn't know better I would assume you were trying to get me fired."

My eyes widen, shocked and a little hurt he'd say that I had ulterior motives. "I'm not!"

"Regardless of your feelings authenticity, that will be the end result," Snape pointed out. "Have you any idea how hard it was after the first war for Death Eaters to get jobs? Those with money and prestige could integrate back into society. I've neither. I may not like babysitting you and your bratty classmates, but I need my job. I'm not going to risk that to cater a childish crush."

"But, Professor—"

He stands.

"I'm not going to argue with you, Potter. Get out of my classroom and go to lunch. I will see you Wednesday."

Recognizing the battle lost, I leave, feeling dejected.

But, you know what, there's probably more than one way to woo your teacher.

I just have to figure out what.

With that in mind, I go to lunch thinking up different ways. But as I'm trying to romance Snape…the more subtle the better, right?

#

I stare at the parchment.

I decide it wise to leave his name off the parchment.

But everything else coming to mind is sappy and I'm embarrassed to put them to page. I've tried and torn to shreds and crumpled up I don't know how much paper already.

Hermione picks one up off the ground and unfolds it. "_Dear Love_," she begins. I jump at her.

"Hermione! No!"

"Ron, sic him!" Ron grabs my legs and pins me down, sitting on my back while she reads it aloud (thankfully we're the only ones here right now): "_Though I know I am only a child to you, I can't ignore my feelings even though you dismiss them._ Aw, that's so sweet."

Ron laughs. "Wow, Harry, who do you have a crush on this time, or is it still Cho?"

"Shut up. It's not Cho."

"Of course not," Hermione said. "But this is a good start. Why'd you toss it?"

"Look at this one," Ron said, picking up another.

"_Dear_…really, Harry?"

I'm blushing a little too much. "Shut up!"

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"I'll just read the whole thing: _Dear sexy_," He begins. Hermione bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach. "_I don't give a crap if you think I'm a brat. I don't give a crap about the risks._ Where was this one supposed to go, Harry? And who are you pining for? A teacher?"

I hide my face in the carpet, hating them for this. At least no one else is here right now.

"Yes," I admit.

"Damn, Ginny's gonna cry."

"I don't care."

"Be nice, that's my sister. Is it Sinistra? I can understand that. Or Hooch. Hooch is scary but hot."

Hermione shook her head. "You still haven't told him?" she asked me.

"Told me what?"

"Ron, I'm gay." I glare at Hermione.

"Oh," he has nothing more to say to that. Well at least he's not storming away like I thought he would. "I kind of suspected, but okay. Is it Lupin? Or Merlin forbid, Lockhart?"

Ugh. "God no, not Lockhart!"

"So Lupin?"

I glare at Hermione. _Say nothing, nothing!_

"I'm not telling you anything."

"I don't think it is Lupin anymore. Lupin wouldn't call Harry a brat." she said, picking up another slip of parchment.

"Anymore?" Ron emphasized. "So Lupin isn't your crush _anymore_?" I manage to flip Ron off.

"_Dear my love, _and that's it."

"Harry," Ron said, ruffling my hair. "Is it Snape?"

"Go fuck yourself, Ron," I snarl.

"Okay, we'll help you, but you'll have to embrace the sappy," Hermione said. "Right, Ron?"

"Sure, why not. I'm bored and this could be fun."

"I hate you both."

"We love you too, Harry," Hermione said, grinning.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The owls swooped into the hall delivering mail.

None approached Snape. The letter remains in my bag. I still need to send it, but I didn't want it to show up in the morning with the regular mail.

But I suppose more than that, I'm a little nervous to send it.

I was probably too honest in the letter and I'm not quite sure I should have been even if that was Hermione's suggestion (Ron was far more mocking than he needed to be, I believe).

Snape is speaking to Sinistra. Something she says makes him smirk. He answers and she laughs.

"Harry," Hermione snapped, kicking me from under the table. I wince and glare at her, though I'm actually quite glad for it. "Have you sent it yet?"

"No."

"Just send it," Ron yawned, sticking a straw in his cup and blowing air into the juice, making it appear as though it's boiling. "Even if you are serious about Snape, it'd be fun for a laugh at least—ouch!"

Hermione had kicked him, glaring. "Be nice."

"Why are you guys even supporting me," I ask. "It's rather uncharacteristic of you too."

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks then turned back to me. "Because Snape's never going to agree to be your partner anyway," they chime.

The jerks.

And yet I feel something like this has happened before to someone else. But to whom, I cannot say.

I look at the staff table again.

"Harry, stop it," Hermione snapped.

"I'm going to class then," I say, fixing my bag over my shoulder.

I don't want to watch him talk to anyone else, let alone smile at them and make them laugh. I admit it's childish and yet I can't help it.

I used to scoff at the whole "can't eat, can't sleep, reach for the stars and over the moon" scenario. No matter how much I liked someone, it was never that bad before.

I thought it extremely ridiculous to love someone _that_ much. I used to think it was unhealthy for someone to devote themselves one hundred percent to another person.

And now I feel my life is being completely taken over by someone I once believed I despised.

#

I haven't seen Snape all day since morning. It's currently four o'clock in the afternoon and I am holed up in the Owlery. Hedwig nibbles my ear as I turn the letter over in my hand, debating between sending it and incinerating it.

"So you are here," Hermione greeted, snatching the letter from me. "Hedwig, take this to Professor Snape," she said, handing it to Hedwig who clamped her beak on the letter and took off before I could stop her.

"Hermione," I snap.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but you weren't doing anything, so I just acted."

"Why?"

Hermione sat next to me.

"Because the sooner you're over Snape, the better you'll feel," she said. "I'm not saying it's not going to hurt. It will be hell, but I think you'll still be more mature then you are now. It was hard enough when you had a crush on Lupin, but you came out of it better, right? And that was without even trying to pursue him. You decided to try pursuing Snape, so while I may not like who you're in love with right now, I'm on your side. I've always had your back and this is no different. Besides, you put a piece of your very soul into it. I know that makes it scarier than normal, but you should be more than just honest about how you feel and Snape should know how serious you are about him."

I'm shaking.

Can you blame me? I rest my head on Hermione's head.

"I'm here for you regardless," Hermione reminds me. "And so is Ron."

While that is comforting, it doesn't make me feel much better.

#

We practiced dueling in the DA meeting today. Thankfully, I had paired with Hermione, who is decent enough a caster that I don't feel I have to hold back unlike if I was dueling Ron or Neville.

I didn't even realize that everyone else had stopped practicing to watch us.

"Impedimenta!"

"Protego!"

"Protego!" Hermione jumped to the side. "Expeliarmus!"

Hermione's wand flew out of her hand.

"Stupefy!" I shouted. Hermione dodged, diving for her wand.

"Protego!" she shouted, just as the spell was about to hit her. It rebounded and almost hit me. I dodged and Dean was hit instead.

"Guys!" Ron shouted, seizing our wrists. "Duel's over, okay? Calm down."

Hermione and I looked around.

"Are the two of you fighting or something?" Luna asked.

"No," Hermione said, sighing. "Stress relief, actually. How are you feeling, Harry?"

I blink. "Better."

"Good. I guess we should call it a day, everyone," she said, addressing the rest of the group. On hearing they're dismissed, we all headed out back to our houses. I walked with Ron and Hermione while Dean and Ginny walked ahead, deep in conversation.

"Stress relief?" Ron repeated. "What? Did Harry actually send the letter?"

"I sent it for him," Hermione said, fanning herself with her hand. She lifted her hair off her glistening neck and tied it back. Ah, the joys of having long hair.

My hand runs through my black mop. Maybe I should consider cutting it again, it's getting out of this world ridiculous.

Thanks Dad. Really.

What? It's his genes that passed to me, including this hair!

Well, that's another battle for another day.

"Hermione, you may have just signed Harry's death warrant," Ron snapped, panicking.

"I doubt that, Ron."

"No," I sigh, "he may have a point. It's Snape after all. I'll be lucky if I die with all my body parts in tact."

"Of all the people you could have a crush on, Harry, why did it have to be Snape?" Ron shouted, shaking me.

"I don't know!" I shout back, hiding my face in his chest.

"Okay, Harry, we'll figure it out."

"The two of you are so stupid!" Hermione snapped at us. "There are no words to describe the two of you!"

"We love you to, Hermione," Ron said, patting my head.

I wish he wouldn't take precedence in emphasizing the difference in our height. I know I'm short. I don't need Ron to bring it to light, though he probably can't really help it as he is a moose.

"Let's go to dinner, shall we?" Hermione ordered, disguising it as a suggestion.

#

_Flashes of the door that haunts me flitted through my mind._

_Crystal balls—rows and rows of them. What do they entail? One of them has something I need. Something…_

"_My lord."_

_Jolted from my thoughts on the room, I turn to the speaker knelt before me. Snape. _

"_You sent for me?"_

"_I did, Severus," I say with a smirk. "Your progress with the boy?"_

"_I cannot say," Snape answers, "his occlumency is beginning to improve, but he is still inept."_

_Good. I need him to be susceptible to my suggestions. _

"_I am privy to his…infatuation with you, Severus. We can use it to our advantage." _

_He remains impassive as ever. _

"_You want me to seduce him, my lord? To do so could ruin my work in Dumbledore's circle."_

"_The old fool will not be alive for much longer," I tell him. "I will soon have no need of you in the Order. Make the boy your lover, gain his trust, and bring him to me."_

_I watch him, looking for any tells of discomfort. He has none, still as ever. _

"_I understand, my lord. It will be done."_

I wake, breathing heavily as I process the dream's events.

I don't want to doubt Snape. I don't want to suspect him if he starts to accept me.

But if the connection I have with Voldemort is a two way connection…

I throw the covers off and I head down to the common room.

I pace back and forth, trying to come to a conclusion and trying to regain some trust in Snape.

Snape was impassive. He was completely indifferent to Voldemort's orders!

I sit on the couch and adjust my position several times before standing and pacing again.

But Voldemort did think I was "susceptible."

So what does that mean? Does that mean he can twist my dreams to his liking? Should I even trust those dreams? Having them saved Mr. Weasley, after all.

But that was one very lucky moment, now that I think about it, if Voldemort thinks he can manipulate me to his liking.

I don't want to think about it anymore, but I have to know.

I rush up the stairs to the dorm again and I change into something more appropriate than a t-shirt and boxers. I seize my cloak after pulling my shoes on and leave.

"Who's there?" The Fat Lady asks, waking.

I close the portrait over the entrance and head for Snape's office, hoping he's there.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I ram my fist against the door until I hear him shouting and swearing. The door swings open and his fury becomes confusion then changes back to rage. "Potter?"

"I know what time it is, but I need to talk to you," I say.

"Go back to bed."

"Not until we talk."

I push my way past him and he closes the door. I discard my cloak.

"What, Potter, is so bloody important at three in the morning that it cannot wait until a decent hour?"

"Did you meet with Voldemort tonight?"

He arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "You haven't been practicing."

"I have been!" I shout. "Every night I practice. Sorry I'm so bad at it! I've only just gotten the hang of it, after all! You shouldn't expect instant results. But then again, it'd be easier if I was good from the start, right? That'd make your task so much easier!"

"Potter, shut up."

I obey only because I hope he will explain to me what he intends to do.

"I have no intention of abusing whatever trust you have in me. Nor am I so depraved I'd stoop as low as the dark lord wants me to. I'm willing to admit your feelings for me are genuine. With that in mind, I cannot in good conscious use that to any advantage, whether to the Dark Lord's or the Headmaster's. If I were to return them, it will be because I _do_ return them. Only scum would take advantage of someone with a crush."

"You didn't seem so bothered by it when Voldemort ordered it," I accuse.

"Potter, you seem to think I am free to show emotion before the dark lord and the rest of the death eaters. Adopting impassivity has saved me on the field time and time again. If I were to let that slip, I could very well be giving the dark lord a look into my mind and I'd die before I could escape. I _have_ to be indifferent when I'm given an order."

But I can't tell if this is the truth or not. For all I know, he's already forming a plan to get me to trust him enough that he can make it seem like he's truly in love with me later…

I can't take this! I can't stand it!

I remove my wand. Before Snape can stop me, I shout: "Legilimens." Merlin knows I've heard the spell enough times.

Snape was taken off guard I guess because I'm flitting through memory after memory.

A man is yelling at a frightened woman. There's a little boy hiding in the corner. The man raises a hand and strikes the woman—

That same man is beating the same boy with his belt. Scar after scar, blood dripping from his back—

The boy is older, in school, he seems happier, but there's still so much hurt in his eyes as he passes from class to class, trying to ignore the mocking laughter and sneers from his peers—

I'm horrified by the boys who are obviously my father and Sirius. I'm perturbed by Remus' disdain. How could they be so cruel?

How could they think that it was all right?

Soap drips from the boy's mouth—

"Lily, I'm sorry," he pleads—

I'm pushed out with such force that I stumble back and lose my footing. I just wanted to know if he was telling me the truth. I didn't think it'd take so much more control than that. I didn't think I'd see such heartbreaking memories.

I let him yell at me. I've no excuse good enough for what I did. He seizes me and forces me out, throwing my cloak at me. I land against the wall and his door slams in my face.

What have I done?

#

"You _what_?" Hermione hissed. She'd shout, but we don't exactly want to draw any attention at breakfast. "Harry, why would you even think that was a good idea?"

"I don't know! Maybe I was sleep-deprived, but I'm not going to try justifying what I did."

Ron just shoveled more food in his mouth, ignoring us. It's his way of saying, "leave me out of it."

I wish I could have an appetite after what I saw, but I just push my eggs around on the plate and sip pumpkin juice. Everything tastes like shit. Exactly how I feel.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know. Is there anything I can do to make it right?"

She averts her gaze and nibbles at her toast.

"I didn't think so."

I look at the staff table. Snape isn't there. And there was a notice on each plate when we came into the hall informing us that his class had been cancelled for the day.

Many have been wondering what he had fallen ill with. Some were saying dragon fever, others were guessing spattergroit.

Only Ron, Hermione, and I knew that he isn't sick at all.

I want to see him, but I'm not stupid enough to go see him.

I'm the last person he wants to see right now, I bet.

I go from class to class in a daze, trying to figure out how to make things right even though I know there's nothing I can do.

Hell, all I can do is apologize to him. And when I do (because I will, I just don't know how I'm going to go about it), will he forgive me? Will he trust me again?

Only after I run into the wall as I leave Transfiguration am I pulled aside by Professor McGonagall and asked what is wrong with me.

I tell her I'm feeling sick and she sends notices to my other teachers informing them I'm taking the rest of the day off and I'm sent to bed. I thought she'd send me to the hospital wing and I'm grateful she doesn't.

Tonks walks by me as I head back. I don't even register that it's her at first until she calls to me.

"Why so blue?" she asks, concern lining her voice. "Things not going well with Professor Anonymous?" she attempts to joke.

"No."

Her smile falters. For a moment, she says nothing and lets me mope. Then, her arm laces around mine. "Come on, then. You look like you could use some fresh air. Butterbeer's on me."

Rather than going to Gryffindor like I had originally intended, I'm directed out of the school toward Hogsmeade.

Once at the Broomsticks and Tonks orders butterbeer for us, I tell her the events of that morning.

"How am I supposed to apologize after what I did?"

"Letters do quite well. Especially when the offended party doesn't want to see the offender," she said.

"I know _that_," I mutter. "I just don't know where to begin. There isn't anything I can do to make it right, so…"

"Even if that's true, it's best to not confront him right now. If he's as angry as you say he is, space is all you can really give him. Have you eaten?"

I shake my head.

"Get whatever you like. My treat," she winks. "Then we'll figure out how you're going to go about getting back on Anonymous' good side."

#

I stare at the parchment, my quill hovering over it.

_Just write_, I snap at myself.

_Dear Professor,_ I begin.

_I am so sorry. __There is nothing that can excuse my behavior this morning. I was out of line. I know that. I __don't__ expect forgiveness. Why should I? __All I can do is feel regret for my actions. I wish I could do more._

_Sincerely, _

_Your student_

There's nothing else I can say.

Hedwig preens her feathers, perched on the seat next to me. I wait for the ink to dry before putting it in an envelope, addressing it to Snape, and sending Hedwig on her way.

I watch her vanish, turning the corner.

I know I've no right to, but I want to see him. I want to hold him and comfort him even though after what I did I know I've no right.

But there has to be a way for me to atone. I decide to write another letter, though whether or not I'll send it is up in the air. For now, I'll keep it secret.

_Professor, _

_My aunt and uncle abuse me much like how your dad did. I was starved and locked in the cupboard under the stairs until I got my Hogwarts letter before first year, then in the smallest bedroom after that. Mostly, I have to undergo verbal abuse, but sometimes I'm hit too._

_I know what those wounds leave._

_Before I came to Hogwarts, school was hell for me too because I was often being bullied and hunted by my cousin and his gang. _

_I couldn't escape anywhere. I still can't escape._

_I can't apologize for my dad or his friends. I can't tolerate bullies because I know what the damage does to the victim. _

_Professor, I'm not my dad. I'm nothing like him. _

_I love you regardless of your past and present._

_I know I'm just a child. I know you think I just have a crush on you that will eventually go away. But like I said before, I'm willing to take the risks if you are. _

_Yeah, Voldemort will try to take advantage of that. That's how he operates. _

_I love you for who you are as a death eater, as a spy, as a teacher, as a wizard, and especially as a man._

_I don't have a crush on you. I'm mad about you, Professor. I want to be by your side and muddle through whatever shit you go through. I want to stand by you._

_Sincerely,_

_YKW_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

My hand throbs with each pained moment.

_I must not tell lies._

Ironically, I've not been lying at all.

_I must not tell lies._

"Come in," Umbridge chirped. It sent chills down my spine, filling me with disgust.

_I must not tell lies._

"Ah, Severus, is it ready?"

_I must not tell lies._ I bite back a groan. A drop of blood drips onto the parchment, blurring _lies_. I rewrite the word and continue to the next sentence. _I must not tell lies._

"It is," he said, "Again, Madam—"

"I know, I know, you disapprove, but as you know, order must remain."

_I must not tell lies._

The hour struck and I set the quill down.

"A moment, Severus," she said, approaching me, prodding my hand. "Good. Let's hope the message sinks in this time, Mr. Potter."

I don't answer, tempted to wipe that evil smile off her face. With my other hand, I sling my bag over my head and stride out without a glance at Snape.

A few minutes later, someone seizes my arm and pulls me aside. Snape brings me into his office and pulls out a bowl and some salve. He sets it in front of me without another word. I dip the injured hand inside and he heads into the back room, closing the door behind him. A timer appears and a note:

_You can go when the timer goes off._

I guess my apology was accepted to some extent. I wish he was talking to me, but I suppose this is the most I can hope for at this time.

I trace the neat, flowing script with my other hand. I look up at the timer. The minutes keep ticking down, but there's not much else to do other than watch it. Unless I want to be creepy, which I think would be overstepping a boundary.

I'd do homework, but with my right hand in the state it is…

I end up falling asleep instead and am rudely woken by the timer, knocking the bowl onto the floor. Shit.

I scramble to my feet and pull my wand out.

"Scourgify," I say. The spilled salve vanishes, but the ceramic bowl is still broken in half. "Reparo." The halves glue back together and I put it back on the table.

I still favor my right hand while fixing my bag back on my shoulder and I leave obediently, returning to Gryffindor. I'm greeted by Hermione.

"Harry, why did she hold you back—your hand! How?"

"Snape," is all I say.

"So he forgave you?"

"Seems like it," I say, sitting down. "He isn't talking to me though. I didn't expect him to forgive me so quickly."

"Maybe he hasn't," she said, inspecting my hand. "Maybe he's just doing his job as a teacher. After all, it is Snape. He doesn't seem to be the kind of person who easily forgives."

True. Snape doesn't seem to be the kind of person who forgives easily if at all. And it was just a couple days ago when I invaded his mind, so it probably isn't likely that he forgave me.

But if that's the case, why did he help me earlier?

Hedwig shows in the window, a letter in her beak. I open the window and she hands it to me. I recognize the script and head up the stairs.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, I'll be back down later. In _casual_ dress, if that's okay," I say, indicating that I'm still in the stuffy uniform.

"Okay," she says, returning to her book.

I don't change immediately, though it is something I intend to do. Rather, I'm anxious to read the letter.

_I accept your apology. My trust and forgiveness, however, will take much longer for you to earn back._

_Don't read too much into my actions tonight. You have a tendency to over think when it comes to the mundane._

_-S_

I change, thinking of a reply. Once I'm in jeans and a t-shirt, I write one:

_I didn't think you did. And don't call what you did mundane. Most people would actually not bother, as you well know. I wouldn't be able to do my insane amount of homework without my hand. I'm even considering getting a quick quotes quill next time I go to Hogsmeade in case I suddenly am unable to use it._

_-H_

I send Hedwig off again and go to the common room.

"So…"

"So?"

"The letter?"

"Nothing important," I say, shrugging. "What's left on our insane to-do list?"

#

_A lot of people __do__ believe you,_ Snape wrote in response to my latest letter.

Since that night, we've started a correspondence. And that was about…two weeks ago now?

He doesn't treat me any differently in class or in the halls, but we have, for lack of anything else to call it, become friends.

My occlumency lessons have also restarted with the condition that I give him my wand so I'm not tempted to use it on him again. But even then, I'm not treated any differently than before.

And he rarely talks to me unless it's to bark out directions or orders.

_They __do__ know you're telling the truth. The ministry refuses to acknowledge it because they are scared. _

_V may not seem like it to you, but he terrorized not just England. His followers and supporters are all over Europe and he even has supporters in Africa and the Middle East. When V was first defeated, half the world rejoiced in your honor. _

_Granted, your credibility has been questioned but not because of anything you've done. RS's whole goal in life was to slander as many people as she could. (That you and your friends had revealed to the paper that she was an illegal Animagus and obtaining information without your consent was brilliant. If I wasn't Head of Slytherin I'd dare to award you points.)_

_U is doing her job as a member of the ministry. I agree that she is taking things too far. You've done nothing to merit her scorn. None of the students have. The woman simply hates children. That is all there is to it. If it helps, the teachers are being terrorized by U also—but you already know that._

_A lot of people are trying to silence you, not just the ministry. That you persist in speaking out and warn as many people as you can is both admirable and impossibly stupid. Others wouldn't even dare to try, but those who doubted you before are starting to change their minds. _

_I knew you were telling the truth from the beginning, H. The mark on my arm was enough proof enough for me to know that he has returned last spring. _

_Whether you believe it or not, I've always been on your side. _

_I'm not saying you should keep your mouth shut on the matter, but find more subtle ways to get the message out. I'm no fan of the Quibbler, but I do, in fact, have that issue on my shelf. I may start collecting it just for laughs._

_The ministry is wrong to not listen to you to begin with. But another thing to keep in mind is this: they are damned if they do listen to you and damned if they don't. Fudge chose the wrong course of action (better to be in a state of false panic rather than unprepared at all) but that is his grave he's digging, not yours._

_You are studying, aren't you? Lots of tests are coming up._

_-S_

Leave it to Snape to tell me to do my homework at the end of a bloody letter.

I grab some parchment and write an answer:

_S,_

_What you've said does help a little and I greatly appreciate it. Yes, I'm studying. You're a right git for reminding me to do homework! I've HG for that, thanks. But my brain's fried right now, so I'm taking the time to respond._

_Do I want to know what U is doing to the teachers? She can't exactly hand out detention to them (though I think she would if she could), but…well…she did fire T, so I guess there's that, but what else is she doing?_

_I believe that V is only powerful because people give him that power. If his followers stopped following him and if people stopped fearing him, he'd lose his power and would pretty much disintegrate. Or he'd go nutty and add to his body count._

_-H_

I send Hedwig off and turn to Ron.

"Chess match or exploding snap?" I ask. Ron looks at me, then at his essay.

"Snap," he said, pulling out a deck of cards.

Hermione looked at it. "Ron, you haven't finished your essay."

"My head is about to explode," he snapped at her. "Give me a little room to breathe, woman!"

"Would you talk to your mother like that?" she growled.

"Hermione, my mother is _way_ scarier than you will ever be," he said, grinning.

I snicker. "You want to deal the deck, Ron? Or should I?"

"I got it."

"What about you, Harry? You said you'd get back to work after you were done with the letter."

"Hermione, my brain feels like it's in an oven. My head is pounding. Is it too much to ask to play a pyromaniac's favorite game?"

Ron and I grin.

"You're both idiots," she snaps, striding away.

"Whatever, Mione," Ron yawned.

"Don't do that."

"Tired?"

"Yes…deal the friggin' deck, Ron."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ah.

Midterms.

The one time a term that the teachers give you lots of homework and schedule tests that will fry your brain extra crispy…

As if we don't have enough on our plate with OWLs.

They even told us these would be OWL level questions.

So everyone, including myself, is flittering with nerves. Hermione is studying every chance she can get. Ron and I are all but begging Fred and George to interrupt the exams. I only feel confident in Defense and Potions. I'm sure I'll be okay in Transfiguration, but the others…Divination being the worst…

Yeah.

Fuck my life. I've got too much on top of too much:

School and the copious amounts of homework, followed by Umbridge and the ministry, followed by Voldemort and his obsession with killing me, followed by my ridiculous love-life…

Am I missing anything? Did I get it all?

I think I did.

After my last letter, Snape didn't send a reply. I guess he decided not to tempt me out of studying again and is waiting for the testing period to end.

Not hearing from him, though, is driving me off the wall. I'm tempted to roll around on the ground like a lunatic who is better suited to be in Bedlam. Maybe they'll let me out of exams.

No. They wouldn't. They're too sadistic.

"My head…" Ron groaned when we left the Transfiguration room. "It's exploding."

"It wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be," Hermione said. "I'm not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved."

"Most people would be relieved, Mione," I say.

My head is also pounding and we've still two more tests today: Care of Magical Creatures and Potions.

We descend the steps, moving toward the potion's classroom.

I know I studied until I could recite everything in my sleep for Snape's class. But right now, I'm unable to recall anything and I'm freaking out.

We're let into the room and take our seats. The tests appear before us and we pull out quills and ink.

Snape has a rather sadistic smile on his face.

I half expect him to say: "You've forty minutes. If you're not done, sucks to be you."

I wouldn't put it past him.

He doesn't. Rather he barks out general rules and reminds us of a few penalties that will be "punished in the severest manner possible."

The test begins. He strides up and down the room to keep us in line. There's two parts to the test: a written portion and a practical one. Once the written is done, we're to complete a potion of our choice by memory within the hour or however much time remains, turn it in and bolt for the door.

I'm relieved that the written part came out easier than I thought it would be. I hand that in and I'm directed to the lab in then next room to begin brewing. Hermione is already there, and Malfoy is right behind me.

I get the ingredients I need for a shrinking solution and begin.

It's not that hard, really. All I have to really watch out for is the peeled shrivelfig. Which I shake until my wrist starts to hurt. Wouldn't want to knock anyone out.

Snape pokes his head in time to time to see how we're doing. He doesn't give any verbal indication that we're doing okay, but a couple sneers are enough to let us know we're doing well enough.

I add the last sliced caterpillar and stir a little bit before letting my solution simmer. I check the time. The room is entirely full by now and most are finishing up their potions. Ten minutes to go. No yelling Snape. No explosions.

So far, so good. I sigh and watch my potion. It's almost a pure green color when I hear a shout. The room is instantly distracted. Neville had slipped. Something flies out of his hand and into my cauldron—

It doesn't explode, but turns murky brown and grey.

I stare at my once perfectly brewed Shrinking Solution.

Snape barges into the room to let us know that there's only minutes left. Those who have finished hand in their potions, giving me sympathetic looks as they leave.

I'm doomed.

"Potter, your potion should be done. Turn it—what the hell?"

I don't know how to explain what happened without getting Neville in trouble.

Apparently, Pavarti isn't as kind as I am and explains what happened in my stead. Neville is usually in trouble for his own potions, not for messing up another's.

Snape loses it.

I try not to glare at Pavarti for ratting Neville out. It's not his fault. He's klutzy and Snape never helps Neville's nerves which are on fire by now. Neville looks ready to pass out.

"Finish your own potion," Snape hisses. Neville might not be able to. "Potter, come back tonight to remake your shrinking solution before dinner."

"Yes, sir."

I send Neville a glance to let him know I'm not mad. Well, I am. I was almost done. But I decide it's pointless to hold it against him. Nothing could make him feel worse than he already does right now.

#

"Well at least you'll be able make it up," Hermione said. I shrug, still bitter. "How close were you to being done?"

"Seconds away. Three minutes at most. It was almost entirely green."

Hermione actually looks like she's going to cry. She really shouldn't. I'm the one who wants to cry.

Care of magical creatures is entirely hands on. We're given our own animal and station, working in pairs or trios, and are graded on how well we care for the animal.

Hermione, Ron and I run for the hippogriff Hagrid managed to get for us.

We take turns feeding the hippogriff ferrets and riding him. We don't take to the air, though.

I had no idea how soothing animals could be. When the two hours are over, I'm relaxed and I almost forget about having to make up the botched potion.

I decide to go sooner rather than later, promising to meet Ron and Hermione in the common room when I was finished.

I knock on the door, awaiting Snape's curt reply.

"Enter."

I open the door and step inside, closing it behind me.

I feel as though I've been mildly electrocuted, realizing that I'm alone with Snape for the first time in…I don't know how long.

"Potter, I trust you haven't forgotten where the storage closet is in the last two hours."

I go to the closet robotically and pull out the ingredients I need with shaking hands. My palms are sweating. I worry I'll drop something. I manage somehow and get to work, focusing on each step I need to take.

Why am I so nervous?

Yeah, it's been a while since I was alone with Snape, but I've never acted like this before.

I rattle the shrivelfig in the container, looking only at my potion.

How long am I supposed to shake it? Well, right? How long constitutes as "well?" I stop shaking the shrivelfig and focus on breathing. I need to calm down or the potion will be ruined again.

I add it after a moment, watching it turn yellow before I allow it to simmer and wait for it to turn purple.

I hear rustling and I'm tempted to look up, but I don't. Snape comes around to check my progress.

He isn't too close, but I still feel suffocated by his presence. My blood is pumping madly through me and my ears are filled with the rushing so much so that I wouldn't be able to hear him if he said anything. I don't think he does.

The potion changes to a deep royal purple and I add four rat spleens, then minced daisy roots, stirring a little bit before allowing it to simmer again, waiting for it to change color again to green.

Snape leaves me be, returning to his desk.

The potion begins to look green and I reach for the leech juice. I knock it over with my hand. It's by some miracle it doesn't break on impact with the floor. I pick it up.

I know Snape is glaring at me and that I am bright red.

I remove the dropper-lid and carefully squeeze five drops, counting slowly under my breath:

"One…two…three…four…five."

I fix the dropper back onto the vial and pick the shrivelfig up again, pouring it into the cauldron and stirring it in waiting for the potion to turn bring valentine's day pink. Once that is done, I add the last caterpillar and let it simmer, watching it turn green.

Once it's bright emerald green, I pour some into a vial and cork it. I clean the station, putting the extra ingredients away.

"Evanesco," I say, aiming my wand at the extra potion.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and put my potion into his hand. My fingers lightly brush the soft skin of his palm and wrist.

I don't even realize I'm walking fast for the door. I'm almost running for it.

"Potter, a moment," he orders, halting me just as my fingers curl around the door handle. I release it and turn around. "Are you feeling all right? You're acting…off."

I nod.

_Let me out. You know why I'm acting this way, so just spare me the humiliation and let me go._

"You're sure you're okay?"

I nod again.

"Did your tongue get glued to the roof of your mouth or are you deliberately refusing to speak to me?"

How can I talk? I'm exhilarated being alone with him. More so that he's talking to me again. But for the life of me, I'm a nervous wreck!

He stands, coming around the desk. Before another word can pass or he's too close, I turn around and pull the door open, running as fast as I can back to Gryffindor Tower.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I count the times I bang my head against the table.

_Eight. Nine. Ten._

"Harry, are you deliberately trying to give yourself a concussion?" Hermione asked.

_Fourteen_. "Yes." _Fifteen_.

"Why?"

_Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen._ "Because my life is one bloody mess." _Twenty-two. Twenty-three._

Hermione seized a pillow and put it under my head as I'm bringing it back down. _Twenty-six—no. Wait. Do over._

"What happened?" she snapped. "You've been beating yourself up for some reason since you got back to the common room."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Then study."

"Don't wanna."

Hermione opened her mouth to snap at me again, but something rapped at the window and she went to let it in. Hedwig dropped a letter onto the table and perched on the seat. I stare at Snape's tidy scrawl.

I'm afraid to open it. He's probably pissed at me again and things were finally starting to get better. But I pick it up and open it.

_H,_

_What happened? Why did you run away? Come talk to me._

_-S_

That's it? I thought he was going to spare me a howler. But the script is not harsh or angry.

Come talk?! I was just there and could barely think! Hell, I think I could barely breathe. Talk? I don't think I'd manage.

I write a reply:

_S,_

_I'm sorry. I can't. I have to study for U's, F's, and FF's class for tomorrow. Busy week, remember?_

_-H_

I send it with Hedwig.

Hermione frowned.

"What?"

"Are you trying to avoid him again?" Hermione asked.

"And if I am?"

"Didn't you come to the conclusion that that's pointless?"

I did. But I decide to ignore her and I stand, picking up my bag and leaving. I'm going to the Room of Requirement to think, freak out, calm down, and whatever else I may need to do.

And once I'm there, the room is a bedroom with a punching bag. Well, I'm not sure I need to hit anything, but it's nice to have it ready just in case, I guess.

I set my bags down and lay on the bed. I thought exchanging letters with him would help. Not that it didn't: I know more about Snape today than I did a month ago.

I don't know what I expected from the letters.

Am I afraid to be alone with him? Or am I afraid of what I'll do if I am alone with him?

I get back onto my feet and ram my fists into the punching bag. It hurts my hands, but I ignore it. I ram fist after fist into the bag until my energy is spent and my fingers are bruised.

I slide to the ground, crying. Whether because of the pain in my hands or chest, I don't know. My hands refuse to open and it hurts to try.

The door opened and I look up, startled. Doesn't the room allow for privacy?

Snape entered, frowning.

"How did you get in?" I ask.

"Apparently, the Room deemed it necessary to let me in for some reason. I've been looking for you. I see your talking again."

I turn away.

"What happened to your hands? Was it her?"

I shake my head. He kneels down and takes them in his. I don't recall noticing how large they were. Or maybe I did and I keep marveling at it.

"You're a fool."

That bit, even though he isn't saying it cruelly. It still hurt. "What do you mean by that?"

"For one, if you don't know how to box, you probably shouldn't." He pulled his wand out. "Episkey," he said. My hands set back in place. The pain ebbed.

"Ouch."

"You'll live." He pockets his wand. "Two, you drive everyone who cares for you mad with worry. It's selfish of you, Potter."

I don't have anything to say about that. That's probably true. "I've always had to rely on myself, so…"

"Not always. After all, you've mentioned that you have a tendency to make Granger help you with your homework as she's a walking encyclopedia."

"That's different."

"Is it?"

"I don't know."

For a few minutes we don't speak.

Snape plays with my hands, making sure they healed properly though we both know they did.

"We're screwed."

I look at him. I've not heard him swear before and I'm, quite honestly, shocked.

His eyes, which were staring at our hands, dart up to meet mine.

"Professor?"

He stands. "You should get back to your house. Curfew is in an hour." He leaves.

What just happened?

#

I lie awake in bed. I can't sleep for the life of me.

My hands still feel his touch, though it's fading.

What happened in the Room of Requirement? I've got a few ideas, but I don't want to read too much into it in case I'm wrong.

After all: there's no way that Snape has fallen in love with me like I have with him, right? It'd be too much to ask for. I try to clear my mind instead. Clear it of all thought, of all emotion…I focus on emptying it out—"

And I feel something.

It feels like tentacles sliding around inside my head. It's gross! Gross!

_Get out! Get out! GET OUT!_

I envision the lake as I remember it from when I was in the Triwizard tournament last year. The murky green water surrounding me. The brown muddy bottom teeming with kelp and other inhabitants. But it's calm, peaceful, at ease…

The tentacles groping around my head vanishes, leaving an itch I cannot reach.

And as that dies away, the serenity of the lake blanketing me seeps throughout my body.

So this is what occlumency is supposed to do. Is it?

Finally, I can sleep and it is the most peaceful sleep I have without aid of potions.

#

"Thank Merlin!" Ron said as we left the Astronomy tower two days later. He stretched. "I thought we were going to die!"

"They weren't that bad," Hermione said, yawning. "I thought they'd be much more difficult. Besides, the actual tests will definitely be _much_ harder."

"Ack! Don't tell me that, woman!"

I ignored them, staring at my feet. I stop and look up. I want to go ask Snape was he was talking about earlier when we were in the Room.

"Harry?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Go on ahead. I remembered I need to talk to Snape about something. I'll be fine," I smile reassuringly at them before heading down the stairs to Snape's office.

I knock on his door and wait for him to open it. When he does, I stride inside.

"Tell me what you were talking about in the room."

"I thought you'd have figured it out by now," he scoffed.

"I may have, but I don't want assume anything just yet. So tell me the truth. Professor, are you in love with me?"

He winced, but it's gone so quickly I wonder if I imagined it. But after a moment, I'm convinced I didn't. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad.

"You already know I'm in love with you, so you can just tell me."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes it is."

He sits down, massaging his head. "You're such a child! You may be comfortable with taking on the risks being in love with your teacher entails, but I'm not."

I avert my gaze, trying to school whatever anger or sorrow is trying to come out.

"Potter, look at me."

I obey, trying not to glare.

"If you're still interested when you're of age then all right…but not a second until then," he said. "Not a moment before."

"So," I count on my fingers. "Its mid-April now…so just a little more than a year?"

"Yes."

I can't stop grinning. I feel lighter than air and my heart is fluttering. "Professor, can I kiss you?"

"Potter, you're fifteen and a half months too early!"

I ignore him, coming around the desk and kissing him. "Was that so bad?"

He glares at me. "You're still insufferable. Cheeky to boot."

I grin and hug him.

A little more than fifteen months, huh?

I can wait.

_Fin_


End file.
